


Living is Harder

by aphreal



Series: Fundamental Truths [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Multiple Wardens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 23:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11839509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphreal/pseuds/aphreal
Summary: When Alexia Cousland and Lisbet Amell get word that Alistair has been left in the Fade, they go to Skyhold to convince the Inquisitor to get him back.A remix of TrulyCertain's From the Underworld (and thus a fix-it fic for Here Lies the Abyss)





	1. Anywhere in the world tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrulyCertain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrulyCertain/gifts).
  * Inspired by [From the Underworld](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4446173) by [TrulyCertain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrulyCertain/pseuds/TrulyCertain). 



> I owe tremendous thanks to my ever-patient beta Cherie who got me feedback on this despite my horrible time management and, as always, called me on it when I tried to cut corners. 
> 
> I'm also extremely grateful to Tru for giving me the chance to remix From the Underworld. I've loved this fic since before she posted it, when I was getting muttering and glimpses about the writing process. If you haven't read it, seriously, go do yourself a favor and read it. Then read everything else Tru has written. You won't regret it. 
> 
> For those trying to keep up, this fic is part of my Fundamental Truths AU.

A flash of blue in the corner of her eye caught Alexia’s attention, and she turned to see a young woman peering uncertainly into the council chamber. Wearing mud-splattered courier’s leathers, she stood half in the doorway, wide-eyed and uncertain as her eyes swept over the assembled privy council. 

Grateful for the distraction from the droning speech she had been listening to for the last quarter hour, Alexia nodded permission for the girl to enter. A relieved smile came to the courier’s face as she edged around the table to hand over her documents pouch before scurrying away, likely in search of a bath and a hot meal, not necessarily in that order. 

Alexia watched her hurried exit with amusement, the smell of horse leaving with her. New couriers tended to be skittish about intruding into privy council meetings, despite Alexia’s standing orders granting them permission. Couriers fell under the purview of the chancery, making the riders and their documents part of Alexia’s responsibility as chancellor. They were to report to her as soon as they arrived at the palace, delivering their pouches to her wherever she might be. While there were a few exceptions to that rule, privy council meetings that the queen had chosen not to attend were not on the list of exemptions. 

In fact, as often as not, Alexia welcomed the couriers’ interruptions. Nothing of importance would be decided without the queen present, and the councilors were quite aware of it. They were meant to meet in her absence to discuss policies and develop recommendations for her, but all too often the meetings were used to air longstanding grudges and petty complaints, to make long-winded speeches the queen wouldn’t have tolerated sitting through. The privy council’s business had become a great deal less urgent since Corypheus’s defeat, and while Alexia was glad the threat had been removed, she might have wished for less tedious meetings. 

Officially, Alexia allowed couriers to enter because the letters they carried might be pertinent to matters under discussion. More often, however, they served to advance the council’s business in a more subtle way. The queen’s top minister pointedly opening and reading her mail during a colleague’s address emphasized the topic’s insignificance and signaled to both the speaker and the rest of the council that the matter didn’t warrant further attention. 

Of course, that required the speaker realizing that they were being snubbed. Sadly, the near-sighted, white-bearded councilor currently droning on about hunting rights in the Bannorn, archaic laws that had been neither observed nor enforced since well before Alexia was born, was unlikely to notice anything so subtle. Even so, catching up on correspondence would still be a better use of her time for however long he continued speaking. 

Truthfully, Alexia could think of few things she’d welcome more than this particular correspondence. Cords woven from blue and silver tied the document pouch closed, and a lightning-wreathed griffon had been pressed into the wax that sealed the knots. News from Vigil’s Keep ranked far higher than most privy council business, and this outranked even the typical dispatches from the Vigil. It was only the second pouch to arrive bearing the Warden-Commander’s personal seal since her return. The first had held only a brief scrawled note reading, “Success. We can be free.” Hopefully this one would provide more in the way of details. 

Alexia broke the wax and unknotted the cords, opening the pouch to find a smaller collection of documents than she’d expected. Lying the folded parchment packages on the table in front of her, she sorted them into neat piles based on familiar handwriting and seals. The majority appears to be standard dispatches, the sort of formal reports on each arling and bannorn that the chancery received regularly. Harvest reports, darkspawn sightings, potential unrest among landholders, news about any lingering pockets of apostates or rogue templars. The usual matters that fell into the chancellor’s lap and had occupied much of her time in the years since the end of the Fifth Blight. 

Among all of the reports addressed to Chancellor Cousland, a single sheet of paper folded with precise creases and sealed with the same griffon-and-lightning crest was addressed simply to Alexia. Setting aside the official correspondence, none of it marked as urgent, she allowed herself the pleasure of opening the personal letter first. 

The anticipated pleasure faded quickly. The usually neat script wavered, unsteady and nearly unfamiliar with distress. Alexia read quickly, skimming through the broken sentences, words rising from the page to sear themselves into her mind, worst fears made manifest in black and white. _…didn’t come back… gone… don’t know what to do… feel so alone… please…_

The sounds of the room -- the councilor’s droning voice, rustling papers, restless muttering -- faded as if they came from far away, drowned out by a rushing that filled her ears like she was underwater. Her vision darkened, narrowing to the words etched onto the page she held, shaking lines of desperation and grief. She couldn’t breathe. 

The rattling of the paper shaking in her grip brought her back to herself. Alexia set the sheet down on the table, smoothing it with fingers that struggled not to tremble, then refolding it along the precise, neat creases already pressed into the paper. She bundled the still sealed dispatches into the document pouch, set the letter atop it, and turned to speak softly to the young woman at her right shoulder. 

“Can you take over for me here?”

“Of course, my lady, if you need me to.” Kayla’s response was quiet but confident, despite the frown of worry creasing her unlined brow. 

Alexia had taken Kayla on as her assistant nearly two years ago, and she had gradually been increasing the young woman’s responsibilities since the strains of an early Calling reminded her how little time she might have left. That the Song had faded with Corypheus’s defeat didn’t diminish the need to groom a successor for the day when it inevitably returned in truth. Kayla learned quickly, picking up finances, politics, and diplomacy, as well as a skill at reading people, which Alexia usually appreciated. At the moment, however, Kayla turned that perceptiveness on her, regarding Alexia with eyes that catalogued every tiny lapse. “Is everything all right?” 

No, it very much was not. “I’ve learned of personal business I need to attend to.” 

A twitch of Kayla’s eyebrow acknowledged the evasion, but she didn’t press, simply gathering her notes and moving into the chancellor’s place at the table as Alexia vacated it. 

Alexia strode briskly through the halls of the palace, the document pouch tucked under her arm with the folio of her other papers. She let her feet carry her along the familiar turns to her office as she planned out her course of action. Arriving, she set the papers and pouch on her desk, then penned three notes. The first was addressed to her majesty, informing Anora that she had been called away on unexpected Grey Warden business and expressing confidence in Kayla’s ability to handle her duties while she was away. The second message, the longest of the three, she left on her desk for Kayla to find, detailing all of the matters currently before the council and providing instructions for running the chancery while Alexia was away. There was little in the instructions that Kayla wouldn’t already know, but having her instructions in writing would let her appeal to Alexia’s authority if her decisions were challenged. The third note, the shortest of all, told Antony that she would be away from Denerim for a while and couldn’t predict when she might return. With that finished, Alexia went to her quarters to pack, dispatching a servant she encountered on the way to deliver her notes to Anora and Antony. 

Half an hour later, Alexia rode out of the palace stable mounted on a chancery horse and wearing the blue and silver armor that had sat neglected on its stand for the past several years. Outside the palace gates, she turned her mount to the northwest, put her heels into the beast’s sides, and rode for Amaranthine.


	2. Keep living anyway

Three days later, Alexia rode up to the gates of Vigil’s Keep. Her horse stumbled every fifth step on the final approach, and she shared its exhaustion; she had pushed them both hard to cover the distance so quickly. Loosening her reins, she let it stagger with its head down the final few paces to the gates that opened to greet her. 

The Warden-Commander’s top lieutenant stood silhouetted in the opening, and Alexia sent a reproachful thought at her exhausted horse. There was no way someone with Nate’s seniority pulled gate duty. If he was here, that meant that someone had spotted her approach and sent word to him, and he’d had time to extricate himself from whatever he was doing and make his way to the gate before before she reached it. 

He greeted her just inside the gate. “It’s been a while, Lex. What brings you to the Vigil?” 

New Grey Warden recruits always regarded Nate with awe, trading whispered tales about his unshakable demeanor and impenetrable composure. But someone who had known him since childhood could recognize the tension around his mouth, the hint of concern in his otherwise even words, the way his index and middle fingers curled as if nocking an arrow. The signs of worry were there if a person knew where to look. 

“Lisbet wrote to me.” 

Nate made a noise of assent, his tension bleeding away at the lack of threat, replaced by a frown that pressed his lips into a grim line. 

The gate closed with a squeal of rusty metal followed by a solid thud. Alexia’s horse didn’t so much as twitch an ear at the discordant screech. She gave it a perfunctory pat on the withers, acknowledging their shared exhaustion. At least it got to find a clean stall and rest now; her task was only beginning. 

Nate’s frown deepened as he took the reins from her. “You rode a chancery mount from Denerim without posting? Courier horses aren’t meant to bear an armored rider. You’ve nearly killed the poor nag.” 

Alexia shoved aside a twinge of guilt over the creature’s ill treatment. The animal had gotten her to Vigil’s Keep; the rest was irrelevant. “I’m not concerned about the horse right now.” 

“Evidently not.” A wealth of dry disapproval was contained in those two words. 

She refused to be distracted by irrelevancies. “I’m here to see Lisbet. Where is she?” 

“In her office, of course.” Compassion bled into Nate’s tone, and his frown shifted into a grimace of sympathy. “The same place she’s been since she got the news, I’d wager. We’re taking turns bringing meals up and making sure she eats. As far as I know, she’s even sleeping there.” 

Of course she was. A couch or even a chair at her desk would be preferable to an achingly empty bed. “I’ll see what I can do for her.” 

“We would all be grateful.” Nate’s posture eased, handing off a burden he hadn’t been able to manage. “I’ll have food for you send up along with her meal.” He pursed his lips again in disapproval. “After I get our stablemaster to see if anything can be done to salvage your mount.” 

 

Arriving at the door to Lisbet’s office, marked with her lightning-wreathed griffon emblem burned into the wood panel, Alexia raised her hand to knock, then hesitated. Closing her eyes, she took a series of deep breaths to steady herself. She would be no use to Lisbet unless her own emotions were under better control than the lapses she had let herself indulge in during the past three days on the road alone. 

Alexia exhaled her third breath and prepared to inhale a fourth when her concentration was shattered by a sharp, crackling noise on the other side of the door. It escalated rapidly, growing louder and higher, then culminating in a popping zap. The sound was accompanied by a startled yelp that quickly merged into a growl of frustration, followed by a crash. 

In the sudden silence that followed, Alexia cautiously opened the door, using its wooden thickness to shield herself from any further energy discharge or projectiles that might be present. 

Her caution proved unnecessary. Lisbet stood alone and still in the center of the room, hands clenched and head bowed, next to a scarred wooden table that served as her workbench. The shattered fragments of one of her devices sparked feebly in the far corner where she had hurled the offending object. 

Lisbet didn’t look when the door opened, her expression shielded by a lank section of dark red hair that had come loose from her messy bun at some point and fallen across her face. She leaned on the work table, her weight supported by hands that were bent nearly into claws, the tendons of her arms standing out with the strain. When she spoke, clipped words that were just shy of a snarl, her voice betrayed the same strain. “I told you, Sigrun: I’m fine.” 

Alexia stepped into the room, closing the heavy door silently behind herself. “I’m not Sigrun, and you’re not fine.” 

“Alexia?” Lisbet’s head shot up, turning towards the door, the curtain of hair falling away to reveal heavily shadowed eyes and a face pinched with pain. Relief flooded her face when she spotted her visitor, and she took two quick steps towards Alexia before her pace faltered. Lowering her head, she gave it a tiny shake, hair falling down to partly conceal her eyes. “I’m sorry. I should have thought before writing you. I shouldn’t have dragged you all the way here. You have so many more important things to do.” 

“Nonsense.” Alexia closed the distance in three brisk strides, setting a hand on Lisbet’s arm, her touch gentle to make up for the mailed gauntlet. “I am exactly where I need to be right now.” 

The steel went out of Lisbet’s spine, her shoulders slumping and body sagging against Alexia’s arm, as if the weight of holding herself upright any longer had become utterly exhausting. From what little Alexia remembered clearly of the first few days after she lost everything, it probably had. Lisbet had been there for her then; she couldn’t possibly do any less now that Lisbet needed her. 

“Thank you. I’m glad you’re here. I really am. I…” In a sudden burst of energy, Lisbet straightened and scurried to her desk, pulling open a bottom drawer and scrambling furiously through it. She emerged with a pair of thin, cylindrical metal-coated glass vials that she looked at with haunted eyes and held as if they pained her. 

“Take these. I don’t want them.” She shoved the vials towards Alexia, holding her arm extended, stiff and slightly trembling. “You should have this. Give the other one to Nathaniel, maybe. He’s always cared about you, and that way you can have a friend, you won’t be alone.” 

Realizing what the vials held, something far more significant and precious than the results of Lisbet’s usual alchemical experimentation, the goal of her three-year search, Alexia took them gently from her shaking hand, holding them carefully lest the glass crack under the pressure of her metal-clad fingers. She set them deliberately back on Lisbet’s desk. “I’m not taking these from you. And Nate was just scolding me about horses.” She followed the irrelevancy with a more serious question. “You truly succeeded? The Taint can be cleansed?”

“What does it matter?” Lisbet brushed the vials aside, sending the silvered glass cylinders rolling across the wooden surface of her desk until they fetched up against an inkwell. “I can’t even look at them. What good are they now?” 

“A tiny fragment of hope, perhaps.” Alexia carefully plucked the tubes up and tucked them back into a drawer for safekeeping. 

“Hope?” Lisbet spat the word bitterly. “For a future alone?” 

Alexia limited her flinch to a small compression of her lips and swallowed hard to prevent angry words of her own from emerging in response. 

Lisbet continued, eyes staring unfocused at the debris of papers on her usually tidy desk. “All they do is remind me that I wasn’t here. I left him, and he’s gone.” Tears began to pool in her already reddened eyes. “I wasted the time we could have had, gambling on a future that will never exist. What do I have to hope for? He’s gone.” 

The brief surge of energy deserted her, and Lisbet collapsed half into her chair and half slumped onto her desk, body shaking with quiet sobs, as she brokenly whispered over and over, “He’s gone.” 

Lisbet didn’t resist when Alexia gathered her up from where she had fallen, wrapping armored arms gently around her shaking form. She didn’t flinch away from the cold enameled steel, either. Of course, maybe she found an armored embrace comforting, familiar. Murmuring the sort of soothing nonsense she dimly remembered hearing from Nan when she was a girl, Alexia held Lisbet while the worst of the wracking sobs ran their course. 

Her friend’s pitiful whimpers and shuddering gasps of breath resonated with the needle-sharp ache that had taken up residence in her own chest since reading Lisbet’s letter. But Alexia’s eyes remained dry. She refused to grieve for him. Not yet. 

When Lisbet finally stilled, Alexia loosened her hold, giving her space if she wanted it. After a few moments, Lisbet pulled free, wiping her hands over her face, smearing the tear tracks and leaving streaks of dark ash or whatever else had gotten onto her hands from her failed project. She sat down at her desk, avoiding looking at Alexia while she made futile efforts to push the loose tangles of her hair back into their original bun. She spoke with her face turned away, the words almost inaudible. “Thank you, and I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” 

Alexia lowered her armored form into a sturdy chair and waited in silence for a few minutes while Lisbet collected herself before asking gently, “Can you talk about it? I know what was in your letter, but…” 

“But you have questions. Of course.” Lisbet folded her hands on her desk, looking almost businesslike if it weren’t for the tear-streaked cheeks and puffy, blotchy upper lip. “It’s a long story involving Warden-Commander Clarel of Orlais and the forced Calling manipulated by Corypheus, most of which I’m sure you already know. You also probably know there was a battle between the Orlesian Wardens and the forces of the Inquisition at Adamant, in the Western Approach.” 

Lisbet paused for a slow breath, steeling herself, and her voice had only the faintest tremor to it when she continued. “What you may not know is that Alistair fought there alongside the Inquisitor. At some point during the battle, she tore open the Veil and inadvertently crossed into the Fade, physically, along with a handful of others. Including Alistair. When the party fought their way past demons back to this side of the Veil, he was no longer with them.” 

Alexia nodded. She had gathered most of that from the letter, although Lisbet could be forgiven for not remembering exactly what she’d written. Firmly ignoring the aspects that made no sense -- people passing bodily through the Veil, Alistair fighting against members of the order that he’d devoted his life to, the fabled Herald of Andraste sacrificing someone to save herself -- Alexia focused in on the detail everything hinged on. 

“You said they left him behind, but did any of them specifically see him fall?” 

“When someone is covering your retreat, you run. No one stopped to look back.” Lisbet’s gaze sharpened as she realized why Alexia was asking. “By all accounts, the demon they were fleeing was massive, an ancient and primordial force. No one could have survived a confrontation with it. What you’re thinking isn’t possible.” 

“Neither is entering the Fade bodily. Or surviving killing an archdemon. Or ending a Blight in less than two years. Or curing the Taint.” Alexia shrugged, unconcerned. “Impossible things are what we do, the three of us. Is it so hard to imagine he might have managed another?” 

“You really think…” Lisbet’s soft words trailed off as she stared up at Alexia, wide-eyed and almost frightened, as if hope was far harder to bear than grief. 

“I think you’re going to have a need for those vials.” She stood decisively, placing her hands on the edge of Lisbet’s desk and leaning forward to hold her gaze. “Pack what you need for travel on rough terrain. We’re going to Skyhold, and we’re going to get him back.”


	3. we laugh and we cry and we break

The next afternoon found Alexia standing in a field trying to catch a horse who casually sidled away every time she got near it, without ever so much as twitching an ear in her direction. She was going to kill Nate. 

“Get over here, you…” Gritting her teeth, she glared at the creature and searched for a suitable epithet. For its part, the horse continued to blithely crop grass and ignore her entirely. 

“His name’s ‘Demon.” Lisbet tightened the last buckle on her pack and stood, lifting it onto her back. 

“Seems apt.” Alexia took a slow step forwards, and the demon-horse coincidentally meandered another few steps away, drawn by a particularly juicy section of turf. She was going to kill the horse and then Nate. 

“Not like that.” Lisbet strolled calmly toward the horse, making a peculiar clicking sound. Its ears swiveled towards her and pricked up. “It’s short for Archdemon. Which is ostensibly why he got given to the Wardens.” 

At the sound of its name, the horse lifted its head. As Lisbet approached, it actually took a step _towards_ her, nuzzling its head against her chest as she stroked the side of its neck, leaning her forehead towards its and murmuring something soft and gentle. 

Alexia snorted. “He clearly likes you better than me.” Something clicked. “Void take it… He’s Alistair’s, isn’t he? Nate sent me out on Alistair’s horse.” 

Lisbet nodded, something sad and serene in her eyes as she combed her fingers through the horse’s forelock. “‘Demon was a gift from Teagan, ostensibly to the Warden outpost as a whole, but… yes, he’s Alistair’s.” 

“I see.” And she should have guessed sooner, when Nate told her he’d selected a mount for her who was used to bearing an armored rider and sorely in need of exercise. 

But Lisbet had referred to him in present tense. At least for a moment, she was willing to think of him as still alive, and Alexia would grudgingly thank the blighted horse for whatever role it might have played in providing that moment. 

But it wasn’t only the horse. Lisbet had started to relax from almost the moment the Vigil’s gates closed behind them. As they left the fortress’s shadow, it was like a weight had lifted from her. She no longer felt so tight and brittle, like a careless word might shatter her apart. Perhaps it was a sense of purpose driving her, the choice to do something rather than accepting fate as immutable. Or perhaps she’d simply needed to escape Vigil’s Keep, to stop walking through halls filled with an absence and being haunted by quarters too layered with memory for her to breathe. 

Freed from that suffocating environment, Lisbet had emerged from her grief enough to remember herself, and Alexia was grateful. She could comfort a hollow-eyed, broken shadow of her sister -- and Maker knew she owed Lisbet more of that comfort than she could ever repay -- but the path ahead would be far easier with the full presence of the brilliant, strong woman who had stood at her side through the Blight. 

A few minutes later, Alexia dragged herself back into her saddle -- after Lisbet adjusted the girth and admonished the demon-horse for inflating his chest when it had been cinched. Lisbet saddled and mounted her own horse with much less fuss, and they set out again, with Alexia mentally composing a stern lecture that she would never give Nate the satisfaction of knowing he’d provoked. 

As they picked their way through light brush back to the main road, Lisbet looked over at Alexia’s mount with a wistful sort of smile. “You know, as much trouble as he is, I think it’s good we have ‘Demon along on this trip. He’ll be one more familiar face to greet Alistair on his return.” 

The demon-horse strolled casually under a low tree branch, and Alexia ducked in time to avoid taking it across her face. “Assuming he and I both survive until then.” 

Lisbet covered her mouth to smother a giggle, and joy swelled in Alexia’s chest at the sound. Lisbet hadn’t merely begun to believe in possibility; she had started to hope. 

 

The sun had set hours ago, marking the end of what would be the first in a series of long days. Alexia ought to have been tired, but she’d never found riding as physically draining as covering the distance on foot. Without exhaustion to overwhelm her thoughts or chancery paperwork to quiet them, sleep seemed unlikely to come any time soon. 

Instead, she sat by a small campfire with Lisbet, who showed no eagerness to seek out her own bedroll either. With the dim light concealing the lines the years had worn into both of their faces, she could almost believe they’d been transported back to the Blight, to one of the many late nights sitting around the fire after waking from a shared nightmare. Except there had always been three of them then. 

The length of the silence shifted from comfortable to awkward as Alexia tried to figure out how to talk to a friend she hadn’t seen for three years. There ought to be lots to catch up on from that time, but somehow it seemed too big to offer a place to begin. Asking about Lisbet’s travels would only stir up her guilt about having been away when she was needed, her worries about whether she had found a cure too late for it to be any use. Alexia’s past three years, on the other hand, had been filled with the tedium of politics, hardly worth discussing in a casual setting like this. 

Finally, she gave up and opted for an inane but hopefully safe question -- “How have things been at the Vigil?” -- at the same time that Lisbet asked, “Has anything interesting been happening in Denerim?” 

Alexia huffed a faint laugh, and Lisbet made a sound somewhere between annoyance and amusement. She looked at Alexia with a wry smile. “Didn’t we used to have things to talk about on nights like this?” 

No, they used to have someone who didn’t know how to stop talking. 

Alexia stared into the flickering flames of the campfire, keeping her tone light, her words meaningless. “We barely knew each other back then, which gave us lots to learn. But now we’re past all of the getting acquainted topics.” 

“Fair point.” Lisbet made a thoughtful noise. “I can nod through descriptions of political machinations if you pretend to understand magical theory in return.” 

“Surely we can come up with something better than that.” 

“Maybe, but let’s pace ourselves. It’s a long way to Skyhold.” Recrossing her legs, Lisbet settled in as if preparing to hear a story. “So where has Anora been sending you recently? Anywhere interesting?” 

Smirking, Alexia acquiesced. “Antiva, mostly. I’ve been at work strengthening… informal alliances. Her majesty hopes that Ferelden can capitalize on recent shifts in the hierarchy of certain unofficial circles. If there are going to be new players in the Game, it’s better if they happen to be friendly to our interests.” 

Lisbet frowned slightly. “What’s been happening in Antiva?” 

“Oh, nothing in particular.” Alexia waved her hands in a gesture of patently feigned confusion. “But there might have been a few tragic untimely deaths among individuals with no official connection to the government.” 

“Ah…” Lisbet’s smile was thin but genuine. “It’s good to know Zevran’s doing well. He never writes.” 

The conversation meandered along easy paths after that, sharing news of old friends and lamenting the ways the world had changed without their permission. All of it comfortable and trivial, safe. Neither of them mentioned the gaping emptiness that sat at the core of it all, the one topic they skirted around with painfully obvious deflection. Even so, Lisbet flinched when they wandered too close, the pain in her eyes mixed with gratitude when Alexia pretended not to see her lapses. A simple conversation. They could almost manage a normal conversation without him. Almost. 

The fire burned itself down to embers while they talked, and Alexia shivered in her armor as the night air leached away the remnants of its heat. Lisbet eyed the tent with a measure of trepidation, and Alexia suspected she wasn’t the only one who had been avoiding sleep. She thought about building the fire back up, staying awake until dawn found them. But her body needed to rest, even if sleep eluded her. They had several long days of travel ahead to reach Skyhold. And likely more to come after that. Exhausting herself when they were barely out of the Northlands wouldn’t help their cause. 

Later, Alexia lay awake in the shared tent, listening to Lisbet’s quiet weeping, tiny gasps and whimpers escaping her attempts to muffle them with fistfulls of rough-woven wool blanket. Shoulders hunched, the mage faced away from her, curled in around her pain. Reaching across the space, Alexia placed a hand on the trembling back. She wasn’t who Lisbet needed, but at least she didn’t have to be alone. 

Lisbet leaned into the touch, not shying away from the tacit offer of comfort, and Alexia shifted closer, cradling her friend as she cried. Guilt gnawed sharply at her, an almost physical pain in her stomach, but she firmly rejected it. The confession she’d planned to make when Lisbet returned could only hurt things further, driving a wedge between them when Lisbet had no one else to rely on. She’d held this festering in her chest for a year; it would keep a bit longer. 

Eventually, the storm passed, and Lisbet stilled. Her breathing evened out, slow and broken by only the occasional hitch. Hoarsely, she whispered in the darkness. “I miss him so much.” 

“I know.” Alexia blinked away the tears that shouldn’t be in her eyes and repeated her promise. “We’re going to get him back.”


	4. Turn the tide

Skyhold managed to be even larger than Alexia expected. The descriptions and sketches provided by diplomats who had visited gave a sense of it, but they somehow hadn’t captured the full scope, the way it loomed so solidly and unexpectedly in an otherwise unbroken expanse of nothing. Staring up at the towering stone walls, Alexia squared her shoulders and continued her approach. She refused to be intimidated by a building, however large and old it might be. She’d lived in castles for most of her life; this one just came with a better view. 

Their approach put them in the shadow of Skyhold’s massive battlements for several minutes before they passed through a pair of thick stone curtain walls and emerged into a courtyard. Dismounting with minor protests from her sore joints, Alexia gratefully handed the demon-horse off to a youngish groom who stared in wary awe at the griffon emblem enameled on her cuirass. Lisbet, unencumbered by plate mail, dropped to her feet more lightly and offered her mount a few parting words before allowing it to be led away. 

Looking around the courtyard, Alexia found herself in the midst of a flourishing and well-tended garden thriving against all likelihood in an icy stone fortress. The pots and beds held few, if any, of the ornamental flowers she was accustomed to seeing in palace gardens, instead being filled with less showy but far more practical medicinal herbs. Elfroot, embrium, spindleweed, and a dozen others she couldn’t put a name to. 

Skyhold, impressive as it might be, was first and foremost a working fortress, and the signs of pragmatism encouraged her. The woman running a place that looked like this would be someone with whom she could communicate. 

As was the woman who stood ready to greet them, immaculately dressed in tastefully-accented gold silks and ready with a polite smile that radiated sincere welcome -- just as it would have done if she detested them. Alexia knew the Inquisition’s ambassador by reputation only, but she deeply respected what the woman had done, carving a place for the Inquisition as an equal partner at the highest bargaining tables in Thedas. “Lady Montilyet. I am delighted to meet you at last.” 

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you. Lady Cousland, Warden-Commander. We are honored to have such illustrious guests within our walls.” She nodded politely to each of them in turn, a tiny frown creasing her brows as she raised her head. “Sadly, I regret that Queen Anora’s couriers must have encountered hardship on the roads. I hope that they are well, but their delay leaves us unprepared for your arrival.” 

Alexia admired the smooth, seamless invention of messages gone astray to excuse their unannounced arrival. If she were truly here on Anora’s behalf, the ambassador’s polite fiction would signal a desire to help their delegation -- and by extension, their queen -- save face. It also neatly sidestepped the provocation if the discourtesy had been intended as a deliberate insult. Based on this first impression, every favorable report that had crossed Alexia’s desk about Lady Montilyet appeared entirely justified. 

“Your concern does you credit, but there’s no need to have your scouts watch for strayed royal couriers. The Warden-Commander and I have come to speak with the Inquisitor on personal business rather than as a delegation from the Crown. Or from Weisshaupt.” 

Lady Montilyet’s face betrayed no hint of surprise at the correction, polite smile of welcome still in place. “I am sure that the Inquisitor would be pleased to meet with you both. Perhaps a more private audience would be appropriate?” 

Alexia glanced at Lisbet, silent and too-still as she looked around the courtyard, intently searching for his imprints in a place he had been. “Yes, I think that might be best.” 

“Of course.” The ambassador’s eyes went to Lisbet, as well, and a flicker of concern crossed her face, followed by compassion. “If you’ll follow me?” 

Rather than leading them up the stairs to the main keep, Lady Montilyet brought them to a small room off the chapel, a quiet space soaked in color from light filtering through exquisite stained glass. “The Inquisitor will join you here as soon as she is able. In the meantime, I will have refreshments brought, as well as guest chambers prepared for your stay. If there is anything else we can offer you after your journey, you need only ask.” 

Lisbet looked up from abstract contemplation of the light streaming through the leaded window. “Thank you. That’s very kind. Maybe only a single set of rooms, though?” She shrugged, awkwardly. “Grey Wardens don’t tend to sleep much, and I suspect your guards would be happier not to have us wandering the halls at night in search of company.” 

If the ambassador found the request odd, she gave no indication of it. “Of course. I’ll see to it.” Lady Montilyet inclined her head in a polite formal gesture, then departed, pulling the door closed behind her to allow the guests privacy. 

Appraising the cluster of delicate cushioned chairs arranged in the center of the room, Alexia opted to sit on a plain wooden bench against the far wall. Lisbet drifted idly towards the window, making an intent study of the colored glass and leaded lines. Its light painted her face in swaths of crimson, saffron, and emerald, masking whatever emotions the analytical examination was intended to distract from. Hope, trepidation, grief? Perhaps some of all of them. 

For her own part, Alexia mostly felt weary. When had she gotten old and soft enough that a horseback dash across Ferelden became exhausting rather than exhilarating? Leaning back against the wall with a soft scrape of metal against stone, she composed herself for what she hoped would not be a difficult confrontation with the Inquisitor. 

But challenging or not, they would get the aid that had come for. Leaving empty handed was not an option. 

A few minutes after Lady Montilyet departed, a pair of servants arrived bearing tea and a plate of candied fruits. Alexia’s estimation of the ambassador rose even further, and the fruit served to coax Lisbet away from her anxious pacing and into a chair. 

Alexia was sipping her second cup of tea when the door opened again. She set the delicate cup down on its saucer and rose to greet the woman who had entered, offering a respectful nod just deep enough to resemble a shallow bow. “Inquisitor.” 

The woman returned her nod, then gestured her back to her bench. “Please, sit. This is supposed to be an informal meeting.” 

Inquisitor Sulevin Lavellan selected a chair that gave her a clear view of both of her guests. Despite her position, she wore simple hunting leathers, well crafted but sparsely adorned. Her glossy black hair was bound back into a plait, and her dark eyes regarded her visitors with thoughtful appraisal. The deep brown lines of her vallaslin, only a shade or two darker than her skin, ran across much of her face, obscuring whatever her expression might have revealed of her thoughts. She moved with unconscious grace and control, projecting an air of unassuming but confident authority. 

“Ferelden’s most prominent Grey Wardens: the Hero who killed Urthemiel and the Commander of the Grey. What brings you to Skyhold?” Her manner was brisk but not unkind. 

Setting aside the sort of indirect implications she had used with the ambassador, Alexia responded to the question as directly as it had been asked. “We’ve come seeking reparations.” 

“I see.” The Inquisitor’s spine straightened a fraction, her head inclining the slightest bit forward as her intent gaze fixed onto Alexia. “Who is the offended party?” 

“I am.” Lisbet held her head up, unbowed, but her composure stretched as thin as the porcelain teacup she held too tightly in a not-trembling grip. 

Alexia stepped in to spare her having to elaborate. “Her husband was lost while aiding the Inquisition. While aiding you.” 

Sulevin nodded, a gesture of acknowledgment and, somehow, regret. “Alistair was a good man.” She turned, speaking solely to Lisbet. “You have my deepest sympathies for your loss. What is it that you hope the Inquisition -- or I -- may do for you in return?” 

“Get him back.” Lisbet bit off the words, sharp as steel. “Tear the Veil open again and take us to where you left him. You will get my husband back.” 

The Inquisitor’s eyes widened, and her composed demeanor wavered for the first time since she had entered the room. “I don’t know if what you ask for is even possible.” She raised one long-fingered hand to forestall a protest as Lisbet inhaled sharply. “I didn’t say I won’t help you; I said I don’t know if I _can_.” 

Settling her forearms onto the arms of the chair, she leaned back, crossing her legs with one ankle on the opposite knee. What Alexia could read of her expression past the vallaslin suggested she was weighing options. After a moment, she gave a tight, decisive nod. “But I’m willing to find out.” Her attention remained on Lisbet. “Warden-Commander, I understand you’re a powerful and skilled mage. Our library and research mages will be available to you, to discuss your proposal and determine whether and how it can be done. Is this an acceptable answer?” 

“It’s a place to start.” Lisbet returned her gaze with one equally intense. “Will you commit to acting on whatever solution we find?” 

“If the level of risk that comes with it is acceptable, yes.” 

Lisbet studied her for a long moment, likely gauging her sincerity or commitment, then a look of determination came over her features. “When do we begin?” 

The Inquisitor rose smoothly to her feet. “I’ll make introductions. From there, it’s up to you.”


	5. Every treatise on the shelf

Lisbet matched the Inquisitor’s pace as they left the chapel, Alexia falling in behind them. They passed through a series of courtyards and covered walkways before entering a heavy wooden door into what Alexia thought was the central structure she had seen before. Despite never having been to Skyhold before, she doubted this had been anything like a direct route. 

Opening a door into a dimly lit and somewhat grimy passageway, the Inquisitor grimaced. “These back passageways don’t see much use. Josephine suggested you might not want to be paraded through the main hall.” 

“Lisbet and I appreciate your ambassador’s discretion.” Even if word of their arrival must have spread through the compound by now, Alexia still preferred keeping their private business out of the eye of gossipmongers and spies from Orlais and beyond. 

The narrow passageway emptied them at the foot of a shallow staircase spiraling upwards, its top emerging into a library built around a circular central well. Lisbet’s eyes lit up, darting towards the shelves full of books as if she could read the lettering on their spines at this distance. The Inquisitor’s pace didn’t slow, leading them partway around the circle to a rather spacious nook furnished with a table, comfortable chairs, and a few other odds and ends that gave it rather more personality than usual for a communal space. 

The space also held a man, currently lounging in the most-worn of the chairs, absorbed in a leather-bound tome whose pages crackled as he turned them, muttering either at himself or the likely long-dead author. Out of habit, Alexia appraised him with a diplomat’s eye. His clothing appeared far too over-worked for casual wear, at least in the south, and even an Orlesian couldn’t carry that moustache so effortlessly. Tevinter, then. She’d only half believed the rumors of a fiercely proud Dalish Inquisitor being advised by a Tevinter mage, but they appeared to be accurate. Interesting… 

After a moment, the man looked up, one dark eyebrow raising in a calculated arch at the sight of the Inquisitor’s company. Setting the book aside, he rose smoothly to his feet. “Welcome to the arcane research section. Are you here for the books or my scintillating wit?” 

“Some of each.” A hint of a smile tugged at the Inquisitor’s lips as she made introductions. “Warden-Commander, Lady Cousland, may I present Dorian Pavus of Minrathous, the Inquisition’s primary expert in applied magical theory.” 

Dorian chuckled, the sound as practiced as his earlier gesture. “Don’t let Dagna hear you say that, Inquisitor.” 

Aside from another quirk of her lips, the Inquisitor ignored his remark. “Dorian, meet Warden-Commander Lisbet Amell of the Ferelden Grey Wardens and Lady Alexia Cousland, Chancellor to Queen Anora.” 

Curiosity sparkled in his dark eyes, although his manner remained aloof. “What can Skyhold do for two heroes of the Fifth Blight?” 

Lisbet met his exaggerated courtesy with flat bluntness. “Get back the third.” 

Dorian’s kohl-lined eyes widened, the casual pose disrupted for a moment. “Is that even possible?” 

“Who knows?” The Inquisitor remained placid, unruffled. “I brought them to you to find out.” 

“Ah, I do so love a challenge.” He sounded glib and put-upon, but there was a glint in his eye, a hint of excited tension concealed in his languid shrug, suggesting that the words were more sincere than he chose to pretend. 

A knot of tension loosened in Alexia’s chest. The Inquisitor had taken their request seriously; they were being handed off to her best hope of succeeding, not shoved aside out of her way. 

The Inquisitor resumed control of the conversation. “Warden-Commander Amell will be working with you on this project. This is a priority for her -- and for the Inquisition. You have permission to requisition whatever you need for your research, within reason.” A wry tone crept into her voice. “That does not include raiding Josephine’s stash of rare wine vintages.” 

“I’ll have you know, restrictions like that demonstrate a complete lack of understanding for my creative process.” 

The Inquisitor smirked, an expression both fond and annoyed, refusing to be baited into a conversation. “I’ll leave you to your work.” 

Lisbet watched her leave, then turned to Dorian with a conspiratorial look. “I can’t help but notice that prohibition didn’t include brandy. If you’re stealing from an Antivan’s liquor cabinet…” 

That startled a laugh from him, less polished, more genuine and appealing. “Yes, this may work.” He put a finger to his lips. “Now for the real test. We’re going to be researching the Veil. What’s your preferred reference as a starting point?” 

Lisbet eyed the shelves. “That depends on what’s available.” 

“That’s not an answer.” Despite his tart response, Dorian crossed to a specific shelf of books, running his fingers along the spines. “We’ve copies of both Aserathan’s _Shape of the Fade_ and Mareno’s _Dissertation_.” 

Lisbet shook her head, skirting around a precarious pile of books to stand beside him. Her head tilted as she read the titles. “I’ll admit I’ve always wanted to read Mareno. I’d ask how you got a copy, but I probably don’t want to know. In this case, however, I think we want _An Enchanter’s Observations_. If I understand correctly, the Inquisitor’s ability to manipulate the Veil comes from an elvhen source. To understand how it functions, we should begin with elvhen accounts of the Veil.” 

Dorian responded with a disdainful sniff. “Assuming you can trust an anonymous Orlesian to have recorded Dalish lore properly, which is highly doubtful.” 

Heads bending close together over the shelf, they began bickering over the books, heated academic debate punctuated by dismissive gestures and wild gesticulation. It was good to see Lisbet animated, confident, in her element here. The research itself might prove almost as beneficial for her as its outcome. 

Alexia, on the other hand, would be all but useless until a course of action had been decided upon. 

Walking to the railing that ringed the central well, she looked down into a circular chamber holding an empty, dust-covered table, the space clearly disused. It made an odd contrast to the bustle in the rest of the fortress; a waste of such a large space must have a story. 

A rustling sound overhead drew her attention upwards, where a pair of ravens perched on the railing, croaking softly to one another as their beady black eyes watched her below them. Alexia eyed them in return. If the ravens roosted above the library, presumably their mistress did as well. 

Alexia cast about for a way up to the rookery. Spotting a ramp, she stalked up it, jaw clenched and heavy footfalls thudding dully on the wooden flooring. 

As she’d expected, Leliana leaned over a desk among perches for her winged messengers. A dark hood hid her bright hair, and what Alexia could see of her features looked thinner, more drawn than she remembered. The mysterious spymaster, hoarding her secrets. 

Alexia began on the offensive, not giving her a chance to twist the conversation into her control. “You should have told me.” 

Leliana’s bowed head rose quickly, turning towards the interruption. Momentary shock was replaced quickly by a thin smile of welcome, a sweet look that could not possibly be genuine. “It is good to see you well. It has been too long.” 

Continuing her stalk up to the edge of the desk, Alexia ignored the false pleasantries. “How long have you known?” 

Leliana dropped the niceties and didn’t insult her by pretending not to understand. “Since I received reports from my agents at Adamant that the Inquisitor and Champion had returned without him. It is my job to know the business of the Inquisition, no?” 

Months! She had kept this secret for months. “You should have told me!”

Shadowed by the hood, unblinking eyes appraised her coolly. “His widow deserved to be the first to hear the news. I owed her that much.” 

“His _wife_ wasn’t available. I was. If I’d known, I could have… I could have fixed this before she ever had to be hurt by it.” 

“I understand your anger.” Leliana’s voice softened, taking on a tone of sympathy as she reached a hand out to lay on Alexia’s arm in comfort. “He was a good man, and we are all grieving…” 

“No, I’m not.” Alexia wrenched her arm away with a snarl. “I won’t grieve for him because he isn’t dead. But he is lost and alone, trapped somewhere hostile and far from home. And he’s suffered there for longer than necessary because of you.” Alexia fixed her with a cold stare. “Don’t think I’ll forget that.” 

Hands clenched at her sides, she stalked away before she became tempted to throw more than words. 

A voice reached her ears as she passed through the library, precise and polished in a northern accent. “Your friend has quite a way with people.” 

Lisbet’s response was soft, compassionate. “She gets angry when she’s scared.” 

Teeth gritted and fists so tight her gauntlets creaked, Alexia blinked away moisture and continued around the balcony towards the stairs to the ground level. She needed air.


	6. Nothing to lose

Alexia spent the following days in various quiet, out of the way corners of Skyhold. She returned to the small room off the chapel, rarely finding it occupied, and spent an afternoon watching scarlet and gold light creep across the floor and up the wall. She added a few more nicks to wooden training dummies in the practice yards, careful to finish before the sun rose and drew any of the soldiers to their morning training routines. She spent a surprising amount of time in the stables, talking to a demon-horse who hated her. The stablemaster didn’t seem to mind her presence, as long as she stayed out of his way. She spent several long afternoons and evenings in a dim corner of the attic above the tavern. The place called to her, despite having nothing to recommend it beyond the allure of hearing the bustle of life below while remaining safely separated from it. 

When dark fell, she always returned to the room that Lady Montilyet had provided. The small chamber had probably been intended as junior officer’s quarters rather than a guest room for visiting dignitaries. But the space had been pleasantly furnished with a wool rug over the stone floor, two beds piled with down mattresses and thick quilts, a pair of comfortable chairs, and an armor stand discreetly tucked in one corner. Every evening, Alexia removed her armor and sat in one of the chairs, listening as Lisbet shared an account of her day’s research. Breakthroughs and frustrations and new ideas to pursue. And always a plan for the next day. Alexia didn’t even try to understand the details; she suspected there were few people in Thedas who could keep up with the work Lisbet and Dorian were doing, and she was decidedly not one of them. But it was good to see Lisbet animated and hopeful, determined and engaged rather than passive and broken. 

And even though she didn’t understand them, hearing the nightly reports encouraged Alexia. Her empty days of waiting felt less pointless when she knew that progress was being made, just not by her. 

The days flowed together, with little reason to mark their passage. It had been perhaps a fortnight when Alexia returned to the guest room one evening to find Lisbet already there, pacing restlessly, her eyes bright, eager rather than agitated. Alexia had barely closed the door when the explanation began spilling out, arcane theory mixed with travel preparations and effusive gratitude for the Inquisition’s library and resources. 

Alexia followed at best one word in three, but her friend’s excitement told her all she needed to know: they’d found a way. 

A small party, led by the Inquisitor herself, would be returning to Adamant Fortress, or what was left of it. Once there, the Inquisitor could tear open the Veil again and lead the others into the Fade, seeking out the site of her previous battle, the place where he had been left. Lisbet made it sound so simple, ripping open a hole in reality, breaching the realm of spirits and dreams. Of course, it had taken two expert magical researchers half a month of study and experimentation to figure out how to recreate what the Inquisitor had done on instinct. 

Ultimately, the details didn’t matter. They had a plan; they could go. “That’s wonderful. When do we leave?” 

Lisbet bit her lip, gaze sliding away. “I’m not sure that ‘we’ do.” 

“You’re leaving me behind? No, you can’t.” 

Lisbet met her glare without flinching, chin raised and mouth set in a determined line. “Hear me out. You’ve done your part. I never would have gotten this far without you. But… Lavellan has the Anchor, and I can manipulate the energies to help her use it. There isn’t anything for you to contribute on this, and you’ve given enough of your time already.” 

“That doesn’t mean you won’t need me. A skilled sword is always useful when you’re going somewhere unfamiliar and unsettled.” She couldn’t be left behind to sit idly by, powerless and helpless while they did this without her; she would lose her mind. 

“It’s not like we’re going to Antiva. Or even Tevinter or Seheron.” Lisbet exhaled a sigh through her nose. “We are planning to walk into the Fade. This is… insanely dangerous, not something a sane person should ever consider. I don’t need to drag you into this.” 

Alexia suppressed her shudder as every Chantry teaching she’d ever heard about trespassing in the Fade screamed warnings about hubris and profaning the Maker’s City. This was how darkspawn were created, how the Blight was unleashed. 

But she could hardly be more Tainted than she already was. And a mission led by the Herald of Andraste herself wouldn’t be an assault on the Maker’s domain. 

In the end, though, it didn’t matter. “You aren’t dragging me; I’m coming of my own free will. I made a promise a long time ago.” To take care of her friends, to see them together and happy, whatever the cost to her. 

“You have other promises to honor, too. What about Antony? If I take you into this and you don’t come back…” Lisbet grimaced. “I’ve been on the receiving end of that letter. Don’t make me send one to him.” 

“Antony will be fine.” Alexia spoke through clenched teeth, clamping down on things she shouldn’t say. She hissed out a breath, trying to exhale the anger and become impassive, implacable, steel. “You can’t stop me, Lisbet. We are going to get Alistair back, and I will be part of that. You aren’t leaving me behind.” 

Lisbet’s determination wavered. “You’re sure I can’t talk you out of this?” 

“Convincing me to stay home and safe while the two of you are both in danger?” Alexia shook her head with a small smile. “No, that’s something that is never going to happen.” 

 

Alexia discovered it was hard to sit around a campfire with the Herald of Andraste, hard to drink a cup of tea brewed by the Chosen of the Maker’s Bride, hard to address someone as Your Worship while sharing a pot of stew. So as the three women crossed the leagues from Skyhold to Adamant, the Inquisitor became simply Sulevin. 

And Sulevin proved to be a comfortable presence, someone it was easy to speak to or, just as often, to sit quietly with. Lisbet spent most of her evenings poring over the notes and tomes she’d brought from Skyhold, seated well away from the fire with a glowing sphere she called magelight, an alchemical concoction that gave off light without stray sparks to threaten tinder-dry paper. Alexia had grown used to sitting with Sulevin, planning out the next day’s route or tending to their gear in companionable silence. 

“Why are you angry with everyone besides me?” 

Alexia looked up from oiling her sword to see Sulevin watching her with a slight frown, the arrows she had been fletching set aside. “Should I be angry with you?” 

“You’re holding a grudge against Leliana when all she did was withhold information. I’m the one who was there. Leaving Alistair in the Fade was my decision.” Her face held signs of strain, a tightness to her mouth, shadows beneath her eyes. The pressures of command always weighed more heavily after looking a grieving widow in the eyes. 

But in this case, she suspected the burden might not be justified. “Was it? He wasn’t part of the Inquisition, a soldier required to follow your orders. Not that he was ever terribly good at following orders at the best of times. I’m not convinced it was a choice you could have made for him.” 

Sulevin’s frown deepened, her eyes drifting towards Lisbet. “I haven’t wanted to tell her, but… He chose this fate. Alistair volunteered to stay behind and cover our retreat.” 

Alexia nodded slowly, unpleasant truth confirmed, and asked the question she wasn’t sure she wanted answered. “Do you have an idea of why?” 

“He said it was a matter of duty, the responsibility of a Grey Warden to atone for the failings of the order.” 

Alexia said nothing, waiting for whatever lay underneath that too-tidy explanation. 

After a long pause, Sulevin continued, her words faltering as she pushed past the surface to get at the truth. “But I thought… he seemed tired. And lonely. The order he had devoted his life to had turned on him. They had become as monstrous as the things they were supposed to protect against. His wife was somewhere unknown, beyond his reach. I don’t think he expected to see her again. I don’t fully understand Grey Wardens, but… that Calling you were all hearing. A part of him thought he was already dying.” 

Alexia nodded, swallowing an unexpected lump in her throat. “And if he was going to die alone, he wanted it to have a purpose.” 

“From what I saw of him, yes, I think so.” Sulevin looked over to Lisbet again. “I don’t know if I should tell her. It seems like information she should have, about what could have been his last moments. But I’m not sure I would find the knowledge comforting if I were in her place.” 

Alexia watched her friend as well, the firelight glinting copper off her hair as she bowed her head over her books. “She has a right to know, but not yet. That’s a conversation for later, if we don’t--” Alexia cut herself off, clenching her jaw so hard her teeth ached, denying the words she shouldn’t have even let herself think. They would find him and bring him home; there was no other option. “There’s no purpose to telling her now. It would only distract her focus.” 

Sulevin nodded, grave and thoughtful, and Alexia returned her attention to her greatsword, rubbing an oiled cloth over the metal. She poured her attention into her task, trying not to feel the weight of the Inquisitor’s eyes on her, deep brown and far too knowing.


	7. A yellow sky

The siege had been Adamant’s last. The Inquisition had seen to that, sending soldiers and sappers back later to tear down what was left standing after the battle. Alexia couldn’t imagine anyone had fought that decision too hard. Even as ruined wreckage, the remains of the fortress had the feel of a cursed place. The Wardens would never choose to reoccupy the site of their greatest defeat, a place where even their best had succumbed to fear and deceit, where the order had torn itself apart from within. The walls hadn’t deserved to stand any longer; a pile of rubble was the only monument the events warranted. 

Staring at the massive piles of shattered, dark rocks, Lisbet shivered, arms wrapped around herself as if to ward off a chill. “The Veil is too thin here.” 

“That should make this easier, then.” Sulevin held up her hand, eyes going distant and teeth gritted in concentration. Green light flared from her palm, sparking and spitting like something alive. The air around them wavered, growing heavy, pressing in like a smothering blanket. Lisbet shivered more violently, and Alexia fought the urge to push back against the weight that wasn’t there. 

The Inquisitor -- very much the Inquisitor rather than simply Sulevin in this moment -- took a step forward, straining as if pushing against an unseen force. Sweat beaded her face, and the tendons stood out on her raised hand. She panted out words through gritted teeth. “Dorian was right. It’s easier here.” 

Maker, if this was what “easier” looked like… 

“It’s working.” Excitement bled into Lisbet’s tone, even through the strain. “Remember what we showed you.” 

With a grunt of effort, the Inquisitor spread her fingers wide, a flare of green light leaping forth from her palm and lashing about wildly, like lightning searching for somewhere to ground. Alexia flinched away from the intensity of it, struggling with every breath as the air pressed against her face, feeling too thick to breathe. 

Then, with a shredding sound she felt on her skin rather than hearing with her ears, the air tore open, and the pressure reversed, pulling her staggering forward to stand… someplace else. 

Maker, she hadn’t thought the disorientation of the Fade could get worse. Rocks hanging at all angles, each one its own island with its own perspective and framework, the edges fuzzy, distorted, unreal. Carvings and furniture jutted out from the floating islands randomly, fragments of rooms and buildings and monuments, pulled out of context into a scattered jumble, a confused parody of reality. The sickening green tinge to the air cast a nightmare quality over all of it, sinister and distorted and wrong. Above all, wrong. Alexia had always hated the Fade. 

And now, being here in more than thought, the physicality of it pulled at her, each tableau trying to draw her bodily into its shattered view of existence. Her usual tricks for asserting her place through sheer force of will -- defining up, down, here, self -- proved useless, the mind unable to affect the reality experienced by a physical body. 

Alexia wasn’t the only one troubled. Lisbet, despite her worry, appeared fascinated, but Sulevin’s stance was wary, uncomfortable. She stared around the jumbled landscape, trying to get her bearings, then grimaced and chose a direction. “Let’s go. We don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to.” 

Alexia silently agreed, following her across the unreal stone ground, skirting around fragments of furniture and keeping an eye out for the inevitable trouble. Nothing good ever happened in the Fade.  

 

After ten minutes of walking through the Fadescape, Alexia’s head ached from the pressure of her clenched jaw and the tension running through her shoulders and neck. She strode doggedly after Sulevin, keeping careful watch over Lisbet, trying to remain alert for an ambush that would come in whatever form she least expected. 

The green sky swirled in slow, nauseating patterns, the masses of rock hanging overhead shifting and distorting in her peripheral vision, but locked firmly in their original place and form when her gaze flicked to them. The harrowing spectre of the Black City drifted in and out of view, vanishing and emerging from behind the floating islands, always present, always in a different location. She caught sight of figures in the corner of her eye, monsters and people, hated and familiar, nagging, tempting, impossible. Gritting her teeth harder, she refused to look, denying glimpses of golden hair, coiled grey braids, a dark moustache, steel and leather and silks. She wondered what the others saw. 

Sulevin stumbled on a patch of uneven ground, a careless step at odds with her graceful hunter’s stalk. As she regained her balance, Alexia drew close enough to hear her mumbling a repeated mantra -- “Safe at Skyhold. Safe with the clan.” -- as her eyes scanned the distorted landscape, picking out a path among the pools of murky water and islands of tortured reality. 

Alexia took some small comfort in knowing she wasn’t the only one fighting against the evidence of her senses. 

She realized that she’d lost sight of Lisbet at the same moment she heard her friend speak, the words quavering and uncertain. “You… you’re not real.” 

“I could be. Believe in me, and I am.” A voice so familiar that it made Alexia’s chest ache layered over something hollow and inhuman, the paired voices twined together like the words came from two throats speaking in unison. 

Alexia spun towards the sound, spotting Lisbet only a pace away from a wavering figure, broad shoulders and golden hair and laughing eyes half-formed, superimposed over the dusky lavender form of a desire demon. Lisbet trembled, tears filling her eyes, one hand frozen halfway through reaching out, on the verge of collapsing or surrendering. Of course, the illusion would be far more real for her. 

Alexia closed the distance, placing herself deliberately between Lisbet and the demon. The creature’s twinned gaze shifted to her, and a smile curled both sets of lips, wickedly mocking underneath and charmingly sweet in the illusion that grew more solid with every passing second. The scent of lilacs filled the air. 

Baring her teeth in a snarl, Alexia gripped the hilt of her sword, sliding the blade out a few inches. “Don’t even try. There is nothing I want you can offer me.” 

“Everyone wants something.” The sinuous whisper didn’t come from the figure in front of her. It originated, low and intimate, from somewhere just behind her left ear. “Let me help you remember what it is to want.” The floral fragrance grew heavier, surrounding her with cool air and distant music and forbidden memory. 

Alexia’s sword slid free with an angry hiss of steel. “Right now, you’re standing between me and the one thing I want. If you really wish to ‘help’, get out of my way. Or I’ll remove you myself.” She leveled her sword at the place where the demon’s heart would be if it had one. 

“You have one chance to walk away.” Sulevin moved into Alexia’s peripheral vision, bow drawn and pointed at the demon. “That’s more than I’ve given the rest of your kind.” 

Lisbet stepped up on her other side, trembling hands wreathed in flames. “I should sear that face off of you. How dare you use him against me?” 

The demon’s illusion faltered as it resumed its natural form, looking at each of them in turn, violet eyes smoldering. Bow, sword, fire… the deadly weapons wavered when that burning gaze turned on their wielders. But as one weakened under the demon’s direct attention, the other two regained their resolve. It couldn’t overcome all of them at once. 

The demon arched one elegant brow, too-white teeth showing as its lips pulled back in a tight, cruel smile. “Another time, perhaps.” 

With a swirl of mist, it was gone, leaving the three of them standing alone. 

Sheathing her sword, Alexia turned to Lisbet. “Are you all right?” 

Eyes glassy with tears, her face set in a stony mask, Lisbet looked through her rather than at her. “I will be when we find him. Let’s go.” 

 

Sulevin didn’t seem surprised when the wave of creatures came rushing at them, pouring out of a narrow, shadowy canyon ahead. She shouted a warning about spiders, but Alexia saw a mass of ghouls, dark and decaying with the Taint. Fear demons. 

Alexia ran to meet them, holding a choke point to keep the creatures from overrunning the archer and mage at her back. She planted her feet and swung her greatsword through wide arcs, letting the ghouls’ charge break against the sweep of her blade. These paltry demons fell more readily than real ghouls, shredding apart into ichor and mist as she cleaved through them, two and three at a time. Further back in the horde, others collapsed with arrows protruding from them or were consumed by blasts of fire. Weak spirits corrupted by simple emotions, they were easily dealt with. 

But even as she cut them down, dozens falling in front of her until their corpses would have carpeted the ground if their forms had held after death, more of them continued to swarm forth. The mass of demons pressing towards her never diminished. No matter how many she destroyed, more came. 

The Fade’s supply of demons was endless, all of them on familiar ground, territory as warped and alien as they were. For all she knew, the figures she cut down reformed and rejoined the ranks of the pack. She might stand here, killing the same demonic ghouls over and over again until she collapsed of exhaustion or her fatigue gave them an opening to pull her down. Then she would die beneath the writhing mass of them, torn apart, mind and body shredded into nothingness under their assault. 

Even if there was an end to the demons -- this time -- the Fade could continue producing horror after horror. Every step they took in this place risked facing more demons, another fight, another risk, another chance to lose their way. 

And if they persevered, if they overcame every obstacle in their path, even in this rosiest of scenarios, the constant struggle slowed them down. Every moment spent hacking apart demonic entities delayed her from arriving where she needed to be. The Fade could throw demon after demon at her, the ultimate delaying tactic. Unliving spirits had all the time in the world; she didn’t. She was going to be too late. 

Flames, he had been here for months. Months! She was already too late. She should have been here sooner. She should have been there for him so that he never ended up here. She should have protected him, should have been the person he could come to for help, her not Hawke. She should have done more, not let herself be so selfish. She had let this happen, the entire tragedy her fault. How did she think she could make up for it by rushing to the rescue now? Too little, far too late. 

Her sword point dipped towards the ground, no purpose to holding it up, staving off the endless, inevitable defeat. She had already failed. What did it matter? The twang of a bowstring, which had become less frequent, ceased altogether. Snarls on their distorted human faces, the ghouls massed to spring. 

A blast of lightning swept through the front ranks, dozens of the ghouls wreathed in its crackling blue glow, convulsing and collapsing into nothingness. “Show yourself!” Lisbet’s shout was punctuated with another burst of energy, shooting not into the swarm of ghouls but higher, a wide arc of forking lightning that spread across the rock face before grounding into an unseen figure, lighting up its twisted form as it writhed and shrieked in unexpected pain, spindly limbs thrashing about its misshapen head. 

The sense of hopelessness lifted, and Alexia found the will to raise her sword again, stepping forward and hacking into more of the fear demons, their charge starting to falter and break as their numbers diminished. Arrows hissed past her, sinking into corrupted flesh and bringing down those that tried to flee. Lisbet continued to hurl bolt after bolt of lightning into the creature above the hoard, the smell of ozone filling the scorched air, until its chitinous limbs curled in around its head and torso, the body toppling from its perch to fall motionless into the mass of fearlings below. 

The others broke after that, shifting from a coordinated horde to a chaos of frightened creatures, working at cross purposes until blade, bow, or lightning put an end to their existence. 

When the last one coiled into greasy mist around Alexia’s greatsword, Sulevin voiced the question first. “Creators, what was that thing?” 

Lisbet had the answer Alexia lacked. “Another fear demon. A smarter one. Most of them are content with the little frights, but the most dangerous of their kind understand abstract fears. Like chaos, the unknown...” 

Alexia understood at the same moment Sulevin said, “Or failure.” 

“Or failure.” Lisbet nodded, sympathetic despite having been largely immune to the demon’s influence. Why hadn’t it affected her? 

Chin raised with determination, Sulevin raised her gaze to look past the battlefield. “The Nightmare’s domain was swarming with fearlings before. I’d say we’re getting close.”


	8. Head full of fantasies

Sulevin’s pace grew quicker after that, and she began commenting on the odd fragments of reality they passed by, treating fractured stone arches and cantilevered tables as familiar landmarks. “This is where we were before. I’m certain of it, as certain as anything can be in the Fade. Except it felt darker before. More oppressive.” 

No one said what Alexia suspected they were all thinking. If the Nightmare’s realm had been weakened, then the Nightmare itself must be gone. He’d killed it. Had he survived it? 

Without warning or fanfare, they turned a corner to see a figure seated beside a rocky outcropping, sitting cross-legged and leaning forward to look at something on the ground in front of him. Tattered blue and silver armor. Hair dimmed to a pale brown without sunlight. Sword at hand but broad shoulders relaxed in casual boredom. He didn’t look how she remembered him, not quite, which meant he had to be real, not a vision conjured from her memory. 

Maker, they’d done it. They’d found him. And he was alive. 

Sulevin stopped where she was, face unreadable beneath her vallaslin as she gestured for Alexia and Lisbet to go on. Lisbet’s eyes, wide and haunted, were locked into him, and she trembled with such force that she nearly lost her footing. Alexia offered her an arm, but she didn’t even seem to see it, focus entirely on him, as if afraid he would vanish if she so much as blinked. 

As the pair of them drew closer, Alexia could see what held his attention, a spread of tarot cards arranged on the ground in front of him as he played some sort of odd, improvised solitaire with the painted tiles. Lisbet’s boot scuffed on the stone, sending a small rock clattering, and he looked up at the sound. 

His eyes widened for fraction of a second, then narrowed, his face set into lines far harder than Alexia ever remembered seeing. 

“Both of them together? I think that’s a first.” There was a brittle edge to the forced humor. “No, really, something new! I didn’t think your kind had it in you. To be fair, it’s not entirely new, just combining earlier ideas. But still, that’s more creative thinking than any of the others have shown. You’re learning! I’m sure we’re all very impressed. Now go away, because I’m still not interested in whatever you think you’re offering.” His eyes turned hard, voice harsh. “Leave, now.” 

Face ashen, Lisbet stumbled forward, dropping gracelessly to kneel beside him. Alexia stood motionless, rigid; it wasn’t her place to intrude in this moment. 

Lisbet’s voice trembled as badly as the hands clutched in her lap. “This isn’t a trick. I… I’m not a demon, I swear. Alistair, it’s me.” 

“Of course it is!” The forced brightness in his voice was sharp, cutting, yielding to a bitter weariness. “Just like the last twenty times.” He turned his attention back to the deck of cards he held, dealing out another three on top of some of the others. “You know, if you’re going to have long-term guests, you should really come up with new material. I hadn’t wanted to be rude, but it’s getting rather dull hearing the same thing over and over again. If you could switch it up a little, now and then, at least that would be something.” 

Tears welled in Lisbet’s eyes as he spoke, sliding down her cheeks when she blinked. Her voice emerged thick and choked. “I’m sorry you were here for so long, but it’s over now. We came to bring you home.” 

He heaved a deliberate heavy sigh, shaking his head. “You had so much promise at first, but then it’s right back to all of the usual tricks.” He moves the cards around into a new pattern, voice conversational. “You should know, I stopped falling for ‘rescue missions’ within the first… Well, it’s hard to count days without the sun. But it can’t have been more than a month. I mean, I’m kind of insulted you you still think that might work.” 

“Alistair, please…” Fresh tears streaked down Lisbet’s blotchy cheeks, and she reached a shaking hand towards his arm. 

As soon as her fingers brushed his vambrace, he was on his feet, backing away with his sword held in a threatening guard position. “I’d rather not run you through while you look like my wife, but if you touch me again, I won’t hesitate. It wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve seen here.” 

Lisbet hunched over, arms wrapped around her belly, gasping for uneven breaths, right on the verge of sobbing. Alexia stepped forward, crouching down beside her. Alistair watched her motions with a cool gaze, wary and impassive, and she had to look away. 

Turning her attention solely to Lisbet, she helped the smaller woman to her feet, half carrying her until she could support her own weight. Of course she shared the anguish over what this ordeal had done to him, but falling apart wouldn’t help. Murmuring soothing words, she shepherded Lisbet away, far enough they could talk, come up with a plan neither of them had ever imagined they would need. 

Alistair called after them with false cheer. “Have a nice chat! See if you can come up with something new. I could use a break from routine.” 

Lisbet flinched, hollow eyes staring at nothing. “He doesn’t know me. They’ve used my shape to hurt him enough that he can’t trust me.” 

Alexia gripped her firmly by the shoulders. “Lisbet, look at me!” The sharp tone startled her into compliance, reddened eyes focusing on Alexia in shock. Good, it was a start. “He’ll recover from this, and he’s going to need your help. But first, we have to convince him we’re real. You know more about the Fade than I do. What can’t demons do?”

Staring at her in confusion, Lisbet answered almost by rote. “Demons can never change their essential nature. They can’t cross through the Veil unless it has been weakened by human action. A demon cannot possess an unwilling mage; they are harmless unless you give them an opening.” 

“Not like that.” Alexia inhaled sharply through her nose, trying to stay calm. “What can we do that a demon couldn’t? Something concrete that he can see. He trained to be a templar, so he should know nearly as much about demons as you do, right? How do we prove we’re real?” 

That got through to her. Lisbet’s breathing steadied and her eyes cleared, her gaze distant but in a sharp way, not so much unfocused as focusing on something no one else could see. A look Alexia had always thought of as Lisbet reading a book inside her head. Satisfied, she released the grip on her friend’s shoulders and gave her space to think. 

When Lisbet’s gaze returned to Alexia, there was light in her eyes. “Bleeding. Demons can’t bleed.” 

She didn’t want to contradict the expert -- Lisbet undoubtedly knew more about demons, spirits, and things beyond the Veil than Alexia could ever hope to learn -- but Alexia’s experience of the Fade over the years held numerous visions of her slaughtered family, blood featuring heavily in most of them. “Are you sure? I’ve never found the Fade to be lacking in blood.” 

Lisbet’s face animated with academic excitement, absorbed in the chance to correct a misconception. “Spirits and demons can manifest blood. They can even make themselves look bloody, covered in it. But the act of bleeding is beyond them, not in a way that looks convincingly real. They don’t have skin to cut, blood to seep out. It’s not something they understand. It’s hypothesized that the energy is also a factor, the life force in blood. They’re drawn to that energy when a blood mage uses it to fuel a spell because it’s something they lack, something they can’t imitate, so they have to steal it.” 

A tight smile came to her face, determined and pleased. “All we have to do to convince Alistair that we aren’t demons is show him that we can bleed.” She drew a small knife, the one she used for harvesting herbs, and strode towards him. 

Alexia grabbed hold of her arm to stop her. “Let me. We don’t need to tempt any spirits by spilling mage blood physically within the Fade.” 

Lisbet’s forehead wrinkled in a moment of distracted, abstract curiosity. “I’m honestly not sure what would happen with that.” 

“Let’s not find out.” Alexia gently took the knife from her. Retreating into academic puzzles had been all that kept Lisbet together in the weeks without him, but there ought to be a limit on what she could experiment with. Tearing open the Veil had been enough for one day. 

Alexia shot Sulevin a quick look, and the Inquisitor nodded understanding, drawing Lisbet aside to keep her occupied, preventing her from falling apart again. Alexia heard part of a question about the details of opening a rift from this side, escaping the Fade once they were ready to leave, and she mentally thanked Sulevin for giving Lisbet something to focus on. 

Knife in hand, Alexia returned to where they’d left him. He’d sat down again, pretending not to watch them as he shuffled his cards around into new patterns. Alexia wasn’t fooled; he’d never been as stupid as he liked for people to think. 

He looked up from the tarot cards as soon as she approached, his eyes flicking to the knife in her hand, alert for a weapon. His mouth broadened in a mocking grin, but there was something sad in his eyes. “You’re not very good at impressions, are you? You’ll need a blade at least ten times that size if you want to be convincing.” 

She smiled sadly at the familiar teasing, wondering how many shared jokes he’d directed at illusory constructs that couldn’t possibly understand the context and the history. “Normally I prefer something bigger, yes. But in this case, I’d rather keep my fingers.” 

Alexia pulled off her left gauntlet, dropping it to clang dully on the stone ground. “Here’s where I hope you paid attention the day the sisters covered this.” She drew the small knife quickly across her palm, a fast shallow cut that she didn’t feel at first, the sting setting in after a second’s delay. Fighting the reflex to curl her fingers protectively around the injury, she held out her hand so that he could see the blood welling up from the clean slice. 

He looked at her bleeding hand in wary confusion for a moment, and then his eyes widened. Dropping the cards to scatter on the ground, he took her hand, staring intently at the blood seeping out of the cut, pooling in the hollow of her hand. He prodded gingerly at the cut, and she hissed at the sharp pain. 

He grimaced, withdrawing his finger with a mumbled, “Sorry, Lexia.” 

Her breath froze in her throat, and she didn’t dare to move. 

Slowly, he looked up from her palm, not releasing his hold on her hand. “You’re real?” Emotion overwhelmed him, disbelief warring with a hope he couldn’t let himself trust. “How?” 

“I made a promise to my two best friends, and not even the Veil is going to get in the way of my keeping it.” Her attempt at a smile faltered. “I’m so sorry you had to stay here this long. I came as soon as I heard. I’m sure someone would have come for you sooner, if they’d known. But… everyone thought you were dead.” 

He studied her thoughtfully. “Everyone except you.” 

She nodded confirmation; she’d already said as much, hadn’t she? 

“Why didn’t you?” 

_Because I’d know. If you were gone, I’d feel it. I’d **know**. _

She swallowed the words, replacing them with others equally true. “You’d never leave her, not like this.” 

His eyes flicked over to where Lisbet stood with Sulevin, his face consumed with wary hope and deep longing. “And she’s…” 

“Yes, she’s real, too.” Alexia masked her sad smile with a tiny smirk. “This is the part where you go apologize for calling your wife a demon.” 

“Ah, yes, I…” He shook his head, looking almost dazed. “Maker’s breath, Lisbet…” Staring raptly at her, he let go of Alexia’s hand without seeming to notice and walked towards Lisbet like he was in a trance, afraid and awed all at once. 

Lisbet turned to meet him, stumbling the last few steps to collapse into his arms. A few words were exchanged, too quietly for Alexia to hear, but the general sense was clear. Lisbet laughed and sobbed at the same time, her face buried against his chest and her arms wrapped around his waist. He clung to her as if she were the only solid point in a maelstrom, his lips pressed against the top of her head. Tears shone on his cheeks, but he smiled like he was the luckiest man in the world. 

“Thank you.” Sulevin’s voice was soft and warm, close at hand. 

Alexia brushed away tears from her cheeks and turned to the Herald, who stood at her side, watching the reunion with a sense of satisfaction and, perhaps, wistfulness. “For what?” 

“In a position like mine, there are always going to be choices I regret. I imagine you know that better than most.” She inclined her head respectfully. “You also know how rare it is to have an opportunity to repair the damage done by those choices. Thank you for giving me the chance to fix this one.” 

“I’m glad you were willing to take the chance, since we couldn’t have gotten here without you.” Alexia smiled, a shade more genuine than her usual politician’s smile. “I’ll be even more glad if you can open another rift to get us home.” 

Sulevin laughed silently, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I think I can manage that. We’ll head back to Adamant as soon as they’re ready to go. I’m not inclined to interrupt. They’ve earned this.”


	9. Always by your side

Alistair greeted ‘Demon with as much enthusiasm as Lisbet had predicted, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Alexia was more than happy to return the demon-horse to its proper owner and borrow an Inquisition mount. Sulevin had brought the spare with them from Skyhold for this eventuality, the warhorse blocky and stolid alongside her slender, elegant hart. The new horse followed directions placidly and covered the ground with a steady, measured stride. Its lack of personality suited Alexia just fine. 

They kept a leisurely pace on their return to Skyhold, giving Alistair time to adjust to his sudden reprieve from living death. The trip proved to be far more lively than the journey to Adamant, especially evenings around the campfire. Lisbet, no longer absorbed in her notes and research, became an active, engaged participant in conversations, adding insightful, clever observations. Alistair talked even more than usual, glad to have company after so many months alone. Over the next several days, his rambling anecdotes formed pieces that slotted together, and a fragmented picture of his time in the Fade began to emerge. 

He spoke of the frustration of trying to cobble together some sort of living space out of a reality that warped every time a spirit decided it should be different, scavenged furniture that constantly returned to its original placement or shifted into something else entirely. He told the saga of the table he’d carried around and through several pools of water to have somewhere to play cards. Only to see it vanish and reappear at random intervals on nearly every rock face in sight. He dragged it back down a half dozen times before it suddenly transformed mid-game into a fireplace that scorched two of his cards so badly he had to invent new rules to play without them. He tried to make a joke of the whole thing, and the story might have been funny if it weren’t for the frustration underneath his frayed humor, his descriptions of increasingly desperate and ultimately futile attempts to gain even a modicum of control over his life. Lisbet confessed to Alexia the next day, sheepishly trying to pass it off as funny, that she’d had a nightmare about a table after hearing that story. 

Alistair’s Fade tales featured numerous demons, as well, of course. Spirits both benign and corrupted had been drawn to the novelty of his presence, more of the latter than the former. A place as twisted and tormented as the late Nightmare’s domain attracted beings drawn to fear and despair more readily than those focused on wisdom and compassion. One night, staring into the fire almost as if he’d forgotten he had an audience, Alistair spoke at length about how he’d taken to standing guard over dreamers who entered his little section of the Fade, chasing away the fearlings and worse so they could rest peacefully. He knew nothing about the dreamers besides their appearance and the shape of the fears that haunted them, but he’d kept them safe as well as he was able. For a moment he almost sounded like he felt guilty for having abandoned them to whatever night terrors might find them now that he was no longer there to watch over them as they slept. 

Alexia swallowed hard, blinking away tears, and saw Lisbet across the fire doing the same. That was so very like him, finding a way to protect others even when he had lost everything, giving strangers the hope he no longer had for himself. 

Sending the prevailing mood around the fire, Sulevin had broken the following silence with a quiet, casual inquiry about some trivial detail of life in the Fade, sparking an energetic discussion with Lisbet about the varying Dalish and Andrastian views of spirits, with Alistair being called on to provide evidence for or against differing interpretations. The debate lasted until frequent wide yawns rendered every other sentence illegible, and they all agreed it was time to turn in. If that night’s sleep brought more nightmares than the usual faint darkspawn scratching, Alexia didn’t hear about them. 

 

When they arrived at Skyhold, Alexia had nearly finished packing up her few scattered belongings by the time Lisbet arrived in their shared room. Most of what Alexia had brought from Denerim had gone with her to Adamant, so there had been little enough to shove into her pack. Another two minutes and she would have been already gone. 

Lisbet dropped her pack at the foot of her bed with a small noise of relief, then flopped on top of the blankets with a happy sigh. “Can you believe we once went over a year without having real beds? What were we thinking?” 

Alexia huffed a laugh. “We were younger then.” 

“I don’t feel old, but…” Lisbet stretched her arms above her head then sunk bonelessly into the mattress. “I’m not going to complain about featherdown.” 

Alexia forced the last shirt into her bag, doubtless wrinkling a garment some poor laundress had spent time ironing, and pulled the flap closed, cinching the strap tight. 

Lisbet raised her head. “Wait, we just got here. Where are you going?” 

Heaving the pack onto one shoulder, Alexia turned to her with an arch smile. “I assumed you wouldn’t want to be sharing your room with me tonight.” 

She placed the slightest emphasis on the penultimate word and watched as Lisbet flushed with a tiny laugh. How many years later, and she still blushed about sharing her bed with the man she’d chosen to share her life with… It was kind of cute, really. 

“Oh, that… Okay, yes, good point. But first… we’ve barely talked the past few days, and before you vanish off into some obscure corner of Skyhold...” Clambering out of the eiderdown that threatened to engulf her, Lisbet crossed the small room to give Alexia a spontaneous hug, seen more than felt through her armor. “Thank you. Really, Lexia, I don’t know how to thank you enough. For coming with me. For being strong enough to hold us both up. For believing when I’d lost hope.” Her voice grew thick with emotion, gratitude and happiness so strong it nearly overwhelmed her. “For… getting my husband back.” 

Alexia returned the embrace, delicate as always with her vambraces and gauntlets. She blinked away stray tears of the sort Lisbet’s open emotions had always been good at provoking. Trying to regain composure for them both, she returned Lisbet to arm’s length and poked her gently in the shoulder with a teasing grin. “Aren’t you glad you kept hold of those vials now?” 

Lisbet’s face brightened, sheer joy shining in her eyes as they flicked towards her pack where the precious tubes were stored. “Flames, yes! I still can’t believe it sometimes, but we’re going to have a real future. A lifetime.” Then her enthusiasm dimmed, and she made a hasty, earnest addition. “It won’t just be us. I’ll figure out how it was made, and there will be more. For you. For Nate. For anyone else who wants to retire somewhere other than the Deep Roads. I promise. This is for all of the Wardens, not just Alistair and me.” 

Alexia placed steadying hands on her arms. “I believe you, but one thing at a time. For now, enjoy this victory. You have a lot to celebrate today.” She glanced toward the hall with another teasing smirk. “And that doesn’t need me in the way.” 

Hitching her bag higher on her shoulder, Alexia turned to leave, but Lisbet caught her arm. “You’re not in the way. All right, for sleeping arrangements, maybe.” Pink tinged her cheeks, but she continued earnestly. “But in general, I do need you. That’s been true since I was freshly-harrowed stumbling around after Duncan trying not to gawk at trees, and it’s not going to change now. You know that, right? You’re still my sister.” 

“Always.” Alexia returned her warm smile, ignoring the twinge of guilt at how she’d betrayed that trust. 

Lisbet didn’t seem to notice the way Alexia couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “So don’t think that you’re superfluous because Alistair’s here. I’ve been away for too long, and I came back into an immediate crisis. Now that it’s past -- and again, thank you -- promise me we’ll make time to catch up. I haven’t been able to think straight, but now that I can, I want to know how you are, what you’ve been doing, everything I’ve missed.” 

“I’m sure none of it was as interesting as what you were doing. If we’re catching up on the past three years, you ought to do most of the talking.” 

“Either way, we need to make time for it. Soon.” 

Alexia agreed, then managed to slip out the door, reflecting guiltily that Lisbet’s idea of ‘soon’ and hers might not line up. Lisbet expected to be searching the maze-like corridors of Skyhold for her tomorrow, but Alexia was already calculating how far down the mountains she could get before nightfall caught up to her. At least she’d be easier to find in Denerim;  it was hard to miss the palace. 

 

She crossed paths with Alistair around the next corner, trailing his fingers along the stone wall as he walked, an unconscious habit she’d noticed since his return from the Fade. He was always touching things now, reaching out for contact with the world around him like he needed to confirm its solidity. 

The corridor was bare stone, nowhere to escape notice, so she wasn’t going to be able to avoid this conversation as easily as she had every time he’d tried to talk to her alone on the road. Steeling herself, she stepped forward to within a few paces of him, exchanging awkward greetings and not quite making eye contact. He didn’t ask about the pack slung over her shoulder. 

They stood in silence, staring everywhere but at each other, for a long moment before Alistair huffed out his breath in something that wasn’t quite a laugh and dragged his gaze to meet hers. She couldn’t read what was in his eyes; it looked almost like fear, but not for himself. 

“Every demon with your face smelled like lilac.” The words were nearly a confession. 

She looked away quickly, taking a deep breath to steel herself. Maker, he couldn’t expect her to… She didn’t need the reminder of the last time they’d seen each other. Of her lapse, her mistake. She couldn’t forget it, but that didn’t mean it needed to be remembered. Or discussed. 

“That should be another touchstone to reality for you, then. I don’t wear that fragrance any more.” Her answer deliberately missed the point, begging him to let it drop. 

He ignored her unspoken plea, pressing on, continuing to look at her with that earnest, wary intensity she couldn’t fully understand. “Lexia, I… You should know, I walked away from all of them.” 

A bitter smile crept onto her face. “As easily as the original, I’m sure.” 

“No…” He shook his head slowly, expression sad and somehow wistful. “It was never easy. But I did it. Every time.” 

“Of course you did. For exactly the same reason. You love her.” She placed no particular stress on the final word, her tone devoid of bitterness. This had never been about jealousy or blame. Only regret. 

His face tightened with frustration, a helpless sort of uncertainty as he looked at her, searching for something that might not make it worse. 

Alexia would never know if he found it, because she cut him off when he finally opened his mouth, stopping whatever apology or pity might have emerged. “I’m glad for both of you. I always have been. Nothing about that has changed. And there’s no reason for you to stand in a hallway worrying about me when your wife is waiting for you.” She gestured along the passageway in the direction she’d come. “Three years is a long time to be apart.” 

His eyes flicked in the direction she indicated, and she could see the longing in them. But he didn’t leave yet, walking forward only until he came even with her, placing his hand on her forearm, a touch she could almost feel even through the plate of her vambrace. “I don’t know if I remembered to say it before, when you first showed up. It’s a bit hazy with all of the blood and the demons and everything. But if I didn’t, I should have.” His eyes were warm, no trace of hesitation in this. “Thank you, Lexia. You’re the closest friend I have, and I owe you for more than I’ll ever be able to repay.” 

Alexia returned his smile, placing her gauntleted hand over his. “As a very intelligent woman once told me, we don’t keep count. And as I’ve told her, many times through the years, I’ll always be here when you need me.” She removed her hand and nudged him away with a playful shooing motion. “Now go see your wife. She’s missed you.”


	10. Turn of phrase

Alexia made her way through Skyhold’s maze of halls to the ambassador’s office, finding Lady Montilyet seated behind her desk with a stack of correspondence and folios, as always. Watching the woman with her head bent and quill scratching ceaselessly across paper and parchment, Alexia couldn’t help a rueful smile. Was this how she appeared when someone dropped by her office, as well? 

She waited for the ambassador to set aside her current document, leaving the ink to dry, before she stepped forward to draw attention. “Lady Montilyet, I’m sorry to disturb you.” 

“Not at all. Please, come in. What may I do for you?” 

Alexia smiled at the gracious opening offered to her. “I was hoping that I might trouble you for a favor.” 

Setting her quill aside, Lady Montilyet folded her hands on her desk with a pleasant smile. “Of course, Lady Cousland. The Inquisitor is most eager to maintain a good relationship. I confess I have been anticipating this request, but unfortunately, I am not confident that I can provide as beneficial of an outcome as might be wished.” 

Her lips pursed into a brief moue before continuing, her words selected as carefully as pearls. “The gossip that swirls around Antiva City is notoriously unreliable and usually quite short-lived before being supplanted by new scandalous tales. A skilled enough player usually has little trouble nudging the season’s conversation in a desired direction. However, as I imagine you are aware, when a particular topic of speculation persists for a long period of time, the rumors can become… tenacious. In these cases, even the most skilled player of the Game can do little more than distract from them for a time. If you wish, I could certainly offer up something fresh for the crows to pick at, but as much as I am loath to admit it, I fear that I cannot promise to make such entrenched slander disappear entirely.” 

It took Alexia most of the length of Lady Montilyet’s polite and circumspect offer to work out precisely what the ambassador was offering. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite… Is this about Antony?” 

Lady Montilyet blinked, nudged off balance by the question. “I had assumed, given my connections in Antiva City and the long-standing rumors that surround Antonio Guidecca… If I was incorrect, I apologize for my presumption.” 

Alexia shook her head with a soft laugh. “Please, don’t think I’m offended. I am genuinely touched by your offer -- and more than a little impressed that you would be willing to attempt such a heroic endeavor. But while I’m grateful you would think to try, I would never ask you to undertake something so monumental as clearing all traces of scandal from Antony’s name. I’ve never been especially troubled by the things they say about my husband and his secretary.” 

And if that was because Alexia was in a position to know precisely which of the rumors were true and which were exaggeration, that was not something she needed to share with the ambassador. 

Lady Montilyet recovered rapidly, shifting smoothly as the conversation veered away from the course she had anticipated. “Rather than guessing, perhaps I should allow you to tell me what favor you were seeking.” 

“Nothing so difficult as depriving the diplomatic circle of one of its favorite scandals.” Alexia smiled with a small half-shrug. “I only meant to ask if I might impose on the Inquisition for the loan of a horse, preferably a beast sturdy enough to carry an armored warrior through the mountains. The one I arrived on belongs at Vigil’s Keep, and I don’t anticipate visiting Amaranthine on my return to Denerim.” 

“I am certain that can be arranged.” A tiny frown creased Lady Montilyet’s brow. “But I was not aware you were planning to depart from Skyhold so soon.” 

Alexia squared her shoulders, keeping her expression carefully neutral. “I’ve done what I came here to do. The business of the realm won’t keep.” 

“If that is not the Maker’s own truth…” Lady Montilyet gave her a companionable, weary smile. Twitching a clean sheet of paper out from a stack on her desk, she retrieved her quill and quickly penned a note in immaculate script. “Providing a mount is the least we can do for you.” She waved the paper a few times to dry the ink before folding it neatly and sealing it. “If you take this to the stables, Stablemaster Dennet will see you well provided for your journey to Denerim. I could also ask our Commander to provide you with an armed escort, if you would like.” 

Alexia accepted the missive and waved away the offer of guards. “I don’t need to impose on your generosity. A horse will be more than sufficient, and thank you again for your kindness.” 

“Of course, Lady Cousland. Safe travels.” 

 

Alexia should have recognized the deviousness behind that polite parting smile, from her mirror if nothing else. She must be more tired than she realized if she’d even momentarily forgotten that she wasn’t the only one who could so effectively hide manipulation behind pleasantries. 

When she delivered Lady Montilyet’s note to the stablemaster, she discovered that the ambassador had not simply agreed to loan her a horse; she had gone a step further. The message instructed Master Dennet that Paladin, the horse Alexia had ridden on the return from Adamant, was being gifted to Lady Cousland, a sign of friendship between the Inquisition and the government of Ferelden. Alexia did not have to feign her pleased surprise at the kind gesture. 

Of course, like any diplomatic gift, the horse came with strings attached. 

Paladin, so recently returned to Skyhold, needed a rest from his long journey. Master Dennet pronounced that the creature would not be fit to set out again until tomorrow, at the absolute soonest. Leaving this afternoon was entirely out of the question, not to be considered. She didn’t need a stablemaster to tell her that taking a different horse and refusing the Inquisition’s gift would be an unforgivable insult. 

Paladin would not be leaving today, so neither would Alexia. 

Recognizing that she had been masterfully out-maneuvered, she thanked the stablemaster, requested that he have Paladin saddled and ready for her the next morning, and returned to speak with the ambassador about the possibility of her imposing on the Inquisition for lodging tonight. By some happy coincidence, a suitable room had already been prepared. Alexia accepted graciously; she could hardly begrudge the woman being excellent at her job.


	11. Wine and dine

Dinner that evening was a fairly small gathering, the Inquisitor, the visiting Wardens, and the Inquisitor’s closest advisors seated along a single table. 

Alexia found herself sitting between Sulevin and Lady Montilyet. The latter welcomed her warmly with a sweet smile, and only a trained diplomat would have glimpsed the smug satisfaction lurking beneath the genial pleasantries. Alistair and Lisbet sat across from her, still with no idea she hadn’t intended to be present this evening. Cullen, on Sulevin’s other side, greeted Lisbet with stiff awkwardness, relaxing slightly when she responded without a trace of discomfort. Presumably there was a story there, but remembering the devastated, terrified young templar she’d met at Kinloch, Alexia wasn’t sure she wanted to know it. 

Dorian had charmed his way into an invitation, it seemed, sitting beside Alistair but leaning past him to Lisbet, extracting details from her about their time in the Fade. Her face lit up as she answered, and before the first course was served, the two mages were engaged in a complicated discussion about how their theories had held up under field testing, what modifications had been necessary, and the implications for arcane research going forward. Alistair, trapped between them, attempted to follow the conversation with good-natured bemusement before giving up and cheerfully stealing food off their neglected plates. Lisbet finally noticed when he attempted to roll an entire plum across the table to Alexia. His justification -- “He wasn’t eating it, and Lexia likes them!” -- earned little sympathy on his side of the table, although Alexia, nibbling at a slice of her purloined fruit, caught Lady Montilyet hiding a grin behind her napkin. After that, Leliana took pity on Alistair, abandoning her conversation with Lady Montilyet across the table to talk to him over Lisbet’s head. Alexia turned her attention away quickly; that bridge had been ruined far too thoroughly for her to salvage it now. 

For all of her animated absorption in the academic conversation with Dorian, Lisbet never stopped touching Alistair. Her fingers twined with his in idle moments, her hand rested on his arm as she leaned across him towards Dorian to emphasize her points. Casual contact, intimate in a soft way, it reminded Alexia of how Alistair had kept a hand on the wall earlier, touching something to be sure it couldn’t vanish away into the air. 

Lady Montilyet comfortably engaged in precisely the sort of dinner party conversation Alexia was accustomed to: serious political talk disguised as pithy anecdotes, mixed with pleasant gossip, a third of which could significantly shift power balances if placed in the right ears. Alexia responded in kind, offering the ambassador some useful information in exchange. Neither Antony nor Paladin entered the conversation at any point. 

Sulevin spent much of the evening speaking with her military commander. From what Alexia overheard of their words, the topics were largely professional. Troop requirements, reports from scouts and garrisons, concerns about red lyrium veins in remote locations. But there was an intimacy in how they talked, comfortable with one another, sentences left half-finished because the other would understand. Alexia had wondered, when Sulevin spoke about imagining herself in Lisbet’s place, if there had been someone specific whose potential loss haunted her. If she had to guess at the fears that had turned the Inquisitor’s face ashen in the Fade, Alexia suspected she could now put a name to them. Sulevin’s soft, warm smile had been a rare thing on the trip to Adamant and back, but tonight it was very much in evidence. 

The most notable contribution Cullen made to a broader conversation began with an offhand remark about his older sister, Mia. Which somehow led to he and Alexia trading stories of childhood mishaps prompted by being too stubborn to accept not always being able to keep up with an older sibling. Sulevin added a few anecdotes of her own, although her older brother sounded far more reserved than either Fergus or Mia. Alexia suspected the Inquisitor herself had also been more cautious and measured at a young age, at least compared to a feisty “pup” with everything to prove. When the conversation turned to Lady Montilyet, she confessed that she was the eldest in her family, so she had nothing at all to contribute because, of course, she had been far too sensible to allow her younger brother or sister to come to any sort of harm under her supervision. Lips curled in amusement, Sulevin promised to send a letter to Yvette the next day to verify that account. 

Somewhere around the fish course, Dorian seemed to realize that he had been literally talking over one of the best resources he would ever find on the Fade: a man who had physically dwelt there for months. His eyes lit up as he began peppering Alistair with a series of questions about his experience, receiving perhaps less than satisfying answers. What had it been like being there for so long -- creepy, terrifying, and boring, in turns. How had he kept from losing touch with reality -- talking to himself and making up card games. Had he interacted with any benevolent spirits -- no, it turns out they don’t know how to play cards. What had he eaten -- when a rift opens in a lake a lot of fish swim through, maybe some flopped their way to the Black City, Lisbet should warn Weisshaupt to look for darkspawn fish leading the charge in the next Blight, probably a very floppy charge. 

Alistair’s cheerful answers grew increasingly outlandish, and Alexia could pinpoint the precise moment when Dorian realized he wasn’t being taken seriously. His lips tightened with annoyance, followed by curling into a clever, devious grin. And he began accepting all of Alistair’s nonsensical statements at face value, encouraging him to elaborate on the most ridiculous of premises and providing plausible-sounding but utterly absurd explanations for how such ludicrous things could occur. Alistair’s grin broadened under the encouragement, and before long the two of them had both Lisbet and Leliana in tears from laughter as they tried to out-nonsense one another. 

Alexia’s wine glass kept being discreetly filled, and as a result she drank more than she had intended, ending up with a pleasantly fuzzy glow by the time the sweet plates were passed around. She surreptitiously lifted an extra marchpane sculpture as the platter went by, grinning when she saw Josephine -- it was impossible to think of her more formally after an evening of gossip and wine -- do the same with a delicate Orlesian pastry. 

Looking around the table, she couldn’t help but feel pride and satisfaction, seeing people she cared about, friends new and old, content and happy. They had earned a few moments of respite and peace, all of them. Lisbet surprised her with a fierce hug as the gathering broke up, before leaving, tucked under Alistair’s arm and still giggling. Alexia watched them go with a fond smile. 

She would still be setting out for Denerim in the morning -- or perhaps the afternoon, given the wine. But it no longer felt quite so much like flight or escape, simply a return to her obligations and duties. When she thanked Josephine at the end of the night for the gift, they both understood she was speaking about far more than just the horse.


End file.
